Oh, Mettaton can definitely sense the LOVE here. It ought to give him pause, but right now any survival instinct is being pushed aside in favour of outrage. This person, this creature, is mocking him. He's being looked down on, like some petulant, pathetic nobody.

Again.

Does he have a problem?

His face twists into a smile, too-bright and vicious and not happy in the slightest. "Oh, yes."

He raises his hands. Bombs start to materialise near the ceiling, dropping rapidly towards Croc - they're shaped exactly the way you'd expect a cartoon bomb to look, only white with a black + sign on each of them. Any that hit will explode into cross-shaped beams of light.